


Shanedan, Dorian

by Almost_Star_Struck



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cultural Differences, Fantasy Racebending, Fantasy Racism, Gen, M/M, Qunari, Qunari Culture and Customs, Qunari!Dorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4782854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Almost_Star_Struck/pseuds/Almost_Star_Struck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Qunari!Dorian prompt fills. I've written so many that I decided to put them off into their own fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble with Horns

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Something, something, magic, Dorian gets turned into a Qunari and Bull helps him adapt.

Bull winced as Dorian’s new horns cracked against the frame of the tavern door. “You might want to get used to ducking.” He watched as the mage swore in High Tevene, rubbing the bases which were still fresh and sore. 

“How in the Maker’s world do you do this!?” Dorian groused as they sat down at the usual table, the Chargers already used to Dorian’s new visage. “Everything is too small!”

Their party had only returned from the Forbidden Oasis a day ago and while everyone was initially shocked to see one Tevinter mage stalking through the castle as a Qunari, at this point there was little they could do other than stare blatantly before eventually going back to their own business.

“It’s a human’s world in the South. Everything is made for their general height.” The Bull explained. “If you think that’s bad, try being a dwarf out here.” Bull jerked his thumb back to Cabot who was struggling to reach a shelf, only for one of the barmaids to come to his rescue. The dwarf grumbled, but accepted the help, taking the stack of clean rags from her hands.

Dorian huffed and rubbed over his horns. Ever since they grew in three days ago, he had been unable to stop touching them. They were heavy and thick, curling back like a ram, but they still added an extra few inches to his height. 

They made sleeping a _nightmare_  as the tips shredded his sheets with minimal shifting on his part.

Bull just smiled at him and passed him a tankard. “You get used to it. Just makes you have to annoy the requisition folks twice as much. You’re going to need a bigger staff by the way.” Dorian sighed and reluctantly took up the drink, holding it in front of him. Even the mugs were too small…

“We’ll find a way to reverse it before I need one,” he said stubbornly. Bull rolled his eyes and touched Dorian’s arm.

“Kadan, we’ll get you back to being human, but for now, you’re Kossith. You’re better off getting what you’ll need now while we have some down time. Just ask Adaar. She’s sure to have some stuff you can steal for a bit.” He tapped his chin, taking a good look at the ensemble that Dorian was in. “You’re wearing her robes right now aren’t you?”

Dorian nodded and groaned. “Yes…we are of a height now…and none of my old things will fit.” He tugged half-heartedly at the worn leather with forest green embroidery. “It’s  _hideous._ ”

Krem snorted. “Trust an Altus to bitch about hand-me-downs.” Dorian shot the other man a glare but his anger was short lived. He took a drink and stared at himself in the alcohol’s reflection. Most of his beautiful hair was gone in favor of the horns. He only had a thin strip going between them now. He rubbed at it futilely.

“You’re still pretty, Kadan.” 

Dorian glanced at Bull and said, “I’m not just being vain. This is my _body_. Imagine turning human and being without your horns.” He reached over, flicking his finger against one of them. Bull nodded.

“Yeah, I’d probably feel a bit naked without them.” He smiled and added, “That reminds me. Let’s get you some horn balm today.” 

“Can’t I use yours?” Dorian asked. Bull gave a teasing smirk.

“I don’t think so Kadan. You’ve got a nice rack,” he paused for emphasis, “But these,” he gestured to his own set. “-need a  _lot_  of balm.” 

The mage huffed and touched over his horns again. He had thought they would be heavier, but no…then again, he had noticed his neck had grown substantially thicker as if to support any additional weight. A hand joined his and he found Bull turning his head by his horns. He allowed the larger Qunari to drag him into a kiss, the Chargers making faces and pretending to gag behind them. 

“Finish your drink. We’ll get those requisitions in before the sun goes and I’ll show you how to balm those up.” He pulled away and tipped back his own drink, licking his lips and giving a low growl as the alcohol burned his throat. 

Dorian snorted, “I’ve worked on your horns enough to know how to do it.”

“It’s harder when they’re on your head, Kadan,” Bull said as he stood. Dorian quickly swallowed his own poison, making a face at the burn before he stood as well. As a Qunari, Dorian found it easier to meet Bull’s eyes. There was still a height difference between them, but not so much anymore. Bull didn’t seem to mind either way. 

“I would have thought that you’d be more excited that we’re the same now,” Dorian said as they left the tavern. “It’s probably…preferable to be with your own.”

Bull didn’t miss a beat. “Kadan, would you rather I was  _human?_ ”

Dorian stopped in his tracks and the Bull smirked. “If I was human, I’d still be  _me_. Nothing changes who you are. You’re still Dorian of House Pavus, Altus and…the rest of that shit I can never remember.” He wrapped an arm around Dorian’s waist. “The only thing I care about is you and making sure you’re damn comfortable no matter what we do. So let’s get you some clothes, some balm, all the stuff you’re gonna need to get through this.” He squeezed the other man’s hip. “We’ll change you back and we just continue on.” 

The mage smiled softly. “I’m really curious what you would look like human.” He reached up and stroked Bull’s face. “I envision you with very dark skin, almost Rivaini. All your scars would show up so nicely against it.” 

The larger man chuckled. “Oh? Like ‘em tall, dark, and handsome?”

“Well if that’s the case you are  _severely_ lacking in the latter department,” Dorian teased. Bull gave him a swat to the ass for that and the mage just grinned. 

“I’m damn handsome,” Bull said with complete confidence as they started up again toward the requisition’s office. “Now, let’s get what you need. I want to try out those horns of yours. See if you love me grabbing them as much as you enjoy the hair pulling.”


	2. Vitaar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No prompt. Just something I wanted to write about Vitaar.

Within the first week, Adaar had commissioned some dull metal caps to keep what remained of his clothes and sheets intact. By the end of the second, the Inquisition’s tailor had managed to put together some simple robes, all of which buttoned up in the front as there was no way on the Maker’s green earth that he was getting any shirt over his horns. 

On the third, Dorian was ducking under the doors and archways like it was second-nature.

He was coming to find that outside of the horns and height, there wasn’t that much that was terribly different about all of this compared to his human lifestyle. 

It was almost…shocking how normal it was.

“What? Did you think we were hiding something more under our horns?” Bull joked one evening in the library, the larger Qunari resting against one of the shelves, his bad knee stretched out. “It’s all shades of the same color, Kadan. We’re more different culturally than physically.” He reached over stroked down Dorian’s back, rubbing his fingers over each vertebrae. 

Dorian shrugged, marking his page as he closed his book. His larger hands made turning pages a bit more difficult, and he had to handle the tomes with more care than he was used to, but that was the easiest of adjustments. “It’s not something I ever thought about before. I never had to.” He leaned into the touch and turned, seeing Bull smiling softly at him in the dim glow. He returned the look and leaned their foreheads together. He immediately pulled back, hearing and feeling their horns clank against each other. 

The Bull laughed. “Don’t worry, Kadan. We won’t get tangled. My horns are too big to get hooked.” He reached up an touched the base of his own set. “But all the folks I knew with curled racks always got snagged during sex. Kissing’s a dangerous game.” He kissed the side of Dorian’s cheek. “So lucky us.”

“Lucky us,” Dorian repeated, allowing himself to lean in again, their horns brushing, but lighter this time. “Speaking of us. Adaar wants to go back to the temple and see what we can find.” He stroked over the book cover in his lap. “She said that we wouldn’t need to leave for another week though. We’re still waiting on Leliana’s spies to get back.”

The older man hummed. “In that case we need to get you some vitaar.” Dorian blinked and the Bull nodded. “Can’t exactly wear a hood or a helmet with those, Kadan.” He pointed to Dorian’s horns, the mage self-consciously touching them. Bull smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make some for you.”

The mage frowned. “Isn’t it poisonous?” He remembered how violently Bull reacted when Cole tried to dip his fingers into the jar where he stored it. Ever since then, Bull kept it far out of sight of anyone. He didn’t even apply it in front of Dorian for fear of it somehow getting on him.”

“Not to Kossith.” Bull stood slowly, offering Dorian his hand. The mage took it, allowing his lover to pull him to his feet. “But you’ll need your own.”

“And I can’t use yours, why?” Dorian asked with a raised brow, following Bull down the stairs. Solas glanced up at them as they passed, but offered no greeting even as Bull waved to the stoic elf.

“Just trust me,” Bull said with a grin. Dorian sighed heavily and just shrugged, placing his hand on the larger man’s shoulder as they walked.

* * *

The next day saw Bull picking through the Inquisition’s apothecary. Dorian stood behind him with his arms crossed, watching as his lover stacked several jars into a small wicker basket stained some terrible shade of brown. “Tell me, do you make Adaar’s as well?”

Bull shook his head. “Nah, she makes her own. Hers is a bit more…well messy. _Vashoth_  don’t know what they’re doing half the time when they try to recreate it. Normally the Tamassrans make it and distribute it to the Antaam, but there’s exceptions.” He paused, “Seheron was one. Deliveries weren’t regular so we had to just make it with what we had.” He pulled away from the shelves and handed Dorian the basket, his expression tight. Dorian swallowed, feeling a bit guilty for dragging up those memories. Bull just forced a smile and said, “Anyway, I’ve got what I need.”

Dorian glanced over the various ingredients, shifting through the containers. Most of these plants were common, but possessed basic magical properties. He raised a brow. “I thought the Qun didn’t approve of using magic,” he said as he and Bull walked back to the mercenary’s room, the jars clinking against each other with each step.

“Magic’s a tool under the Qun. A dangerous one, but a tool.  _Saarebas_ are chained and collared so they might be better controlled. They aren’t eliminated,” Bull opened the door, stepping aside to let Dorian in first. The mage did so, settling the basket on the bed. Bull’s own vitaar was kept in a chest alongside all the stamps and brushes used for applying it. The poison had long since soaked into the wood there and Iron Bull took no risks. 

Bull sat on the thick bear rug and gestured for Dorian to join him as he dragged the chest out from under the bed. Dorian sat back on his heels as he watched his lover remove a large stained bowl. The warrior turned to him and heaved a sigh, gesturing to his arm. “Dorian, I’m going to need to get some blood.”

The mage snorted as he watched Bull remove a small knife from the box. “If you must,” he said, turning so the exposed skin of his shoulder faced the other man. Bull kissed the muscle before cutting a shallow slice into Dorian’s arm. Once the wound was made, he quickly pressed the bowl close to the tear, letting the mage’s blood spill into the basin. Dorian watched with morbid curiosity.

Eventually he pulled back and allowed the mage to heal over the cut. “Ok?” he asked as Dorian rubbed over the slightly tender skin.

Dorian nodded and gestured to the bowl. “You know, I’m wondering now if there isn’t a bit of blood magic to this.” 

He saw Bull scowl.

“That’s so it doesn’t hurt you.” Bull muttered as he removed a pestle from the chest. “You  _could_ put on my vitaar, but you’d get ill or at least pretty damn weak.” He yanked one of the jars of black lotus leaves out of the basket and took two pinches, crumbling them into the blood. He took the stone pestle and began to mix until the blood had stained a very vivid maroon.

“What kind of vitaar are you going to give me?” Dorian asked as he leaned over, watching the Bull work. The other man didn’t answer. He didn’t even look up as he added some Felandaris stems. The substance turned thick under the pestle and it smelled strongly of earth.

Bull removed a small pouch of black shimmering powder from the chest and added a pinch of that to the mixture. The earthly scent quickly became metallic and the mixture grew thicker. “What was that?” Dorian asked as Bull placed the pouch back into the chest.

“Qunari secret,” Bull said with a teasing grin. Dorian pouted and leaned over to grab it out of the box, but Bull shoved him back down to sit. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.” He gave a one-eyed wink and Dorian just sighed.

“Fine, keep your poison secrets. Are you almost done?” Dorian asked, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

Bull nodded. “Yep. Just need a few more things.”

With each pass of the pestle, the substance became thicker and thicker. Soon Bull was having to work to scrape the pestle against the bowl. Dorian winced, hearing a slight screech of wood before Bull finally scooped the black tar out and into an empty jar. 

“There’s not a lot in there,” he pointed out, tapping the glass.

“It’s only gonna last you until we change you back,” Bull said, letting Dorian take the jar and look over the paint. “But we should test it first. Make sure that I didn’t make it too strong.” The larger man leaned over and pulled a brush from the chest, dipping it into the jar. “Give me your arm.”

He hesitated for a second before stretching out his arm, letting Bull take it in his large hands. The Qunari smiled softly at him, drawing a circle of black against the inside of his wrist. Dorian’s brow tightened in confusion as he stared at the black paint. It felt extremely warm to the touch, but it was cooling fairly quickly like a cup of tea on a windy day. As it cooled, he could feel tingles running up the length of his arm. He shivered, flexing his fingers.

“No itching right?” Bull asked, massaging between the mage’s fingers. Dorian shook his head and the other Qunari relaxed, kissing his cheek. “Good…I went a little light with yours just to be sure.”

Dorian stared down at the mark, wondering what it would feel like all over his body. “Does it feel like this for you when you apply it?” he asked, glancing up at his lover. Iron Bull shrugged.

“Depends on the blend, but yeah…” He smiled and gestured back to Dorian’s arm. “Should be dry now. Safe to touch.”

Curious, Dorian poked at the mark. It felt hard and yet it still flexed with his skin. “This is…” he stroked over it with his fingers, tracing the shape with his nail. “It’s amazing,” he breathed. He lifted his head and glanced longingly at the brush. He wanted to paint more, but there was so little in the jar.

Bull leaned back on his hands, letting Dorian explore the dried paint. “Vitaar’s pretty neat. It’s harmless once dry, but while its wet it’ll eat through your skin.” He exhaled and put the jar into the chest along with the other materials. He’d wash them off later. “We’ll paint you up when we head out into the field. It’s not as pretty as your kohl, but it’ll keep wyverns from eating your face.”

Still rubbing over the vitaar, Dorian glanced over to his lover, “Can I paint you?” he asked before pausing, chewing his lower lip. “I mean…I might not get another chance, so…” 

The Bull’s single eye softened and he grabbed Dorian by the horns, pulling them close, staring into Dorian’s grey eyes. The mage’s breath hitched and he instinctively reached to grab the Bull’s.

“Sure, Kadan,” he told him, nuzzling his nose. “And you know, if you want to paint me up when we’re done…well I’m sure we can get some metal brushes and stamps.” He shrugged. “Or put in a requisition. Either way, shouldn’t be too hard.”

Dorian chuckled as he kept rubbing at the little circle of metal against his pulse. “I’ll hold you to it.”


	3. Fashion of the Qun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Fashion fab Q!Dorian

“ _Vishante kaffas!_  It needs to be tighter!”

A second voice joined the first and huffed, “I’m trying!”

Iron Bull raised an eyebrow as he listened in at the door, hearing strained grunts and quite a bit of scuffling against the wood planks. He heard a low groan and the snap of rope against flesh, then finally lots of panting.

“Well…how does it look?” Both voices paused.

“Well…it’s… _interesting._ ”

A frustrated sigh. “Help me get it off.”

The second voice snorted. “Just use a knife.”

“I spent a lot of sovereigns on this!”

“Then get yourself out.” Footsteps toward the door and suddenly it opened, Iron Bull stepping back just as Krem appeared in the frame. The Vint blinked in surprised and then smiled. “Chief, good timing. Your boyfriend could use some help.” He jerked his thumb back to room, “A lot of help.”

Bull smiled. “Sounded like you were trying to get him into a corset.”

“Eh, something like that.” Krem said as he headed toward the tavern, waving over his shoulder at his boss. Bull watched him go before entering the room, closing the door behind him with the barest of clicks.

Dorian stood in front of the full-length mirror, his back to Bull as he pulled at a series of complex knots that ran up both arms and connected to a leather vest. There was nothing below his waist save for the new cotton smalls they had commissioned in a rush to make sure Dorian had underwear that could fit his larger frame.

The Bull’s attention was drawn from Dorian’s pert ass back to the knots. The rope was of a quality, stained red but with some gold threads woven into to create a shimmer effect. It stood out starkly against Dorian’s gray skin even as the mage tugged and adjusted it.

“ _Kaffas!_ ” The mage threw up his hands in frustration and turned. At the sight of his lover, his gray eyes went wide. “Bull! What are…you were with Adaar?” he fumbled over his words, his cheeks taking on a bit of color. Now that he was facing him, Iron Bull could see the molding of the leather, the buckles that crossed the front in an asymmetrical Tevinter weave fashion. Koslun’s horns, the damn serpent was even engraved on the metalwork.

“Kadan, what’s all this?” he asked, stepping forward. Dorian stepped back toward the bed where Bull could see several other pieces of armor laid out that had yet to be added to the ensemble.

Dorian heaved a sigh and lowered his arms, letting Bull get a better look at the knotwork that held taunt over the muscles of his limbs. “I had meant to surprise you. You weren’t supposed to be back until tonight.”

_Danger_

_Devotion to the Qun_

_Magic_

The Bull frowned. He had seen all of those on the bound saarebas back in Par Vollen. While this armor lended its design more to the viddathari or the slighter Kossith, those knots were taken from directly from leashes of Qunari mages. For a moment, he imagined Dorian bound like that, his lips sewn and his eyes covered. Bull's stomach rolled and he shuddered.

The mage’s heavy sigh drove him from the dark thoughts. “It looks ridiculous, I know.” Dorian frowned and then went back to trying to undo the knots. “Krem said as much.”

Bull shook his head and moved to stand next to Dorian, “It’s a surprise, but not a bad one.” He paused, ignoring the rope. “Thought I would pick different knots for you if you let me retie them.” The Bull ran his hands over the supple leather, feeling the very Tevinter glyphs carved into the back. 

Damn this was good work.

“You said I needed new armor. I thought it would be a worthwhile investment to try something that would better fit a Qunari…” Dorian gestured to the bed, looking a bit frustrated as he chewed his lower lip. Iron Bull smiled and went over, picking up the pants and belt, leaving the boots on the floor for now.

The belt was large, even for him. Dorian’s belly would be exposed, but this would offer some protection with the large silverite buckle. “I think it’ll look better with the rest of it on.” The Bull brushed his hands over the leather pants. They felt soft and supple like halla, but it was thick as a bronto hide. “What kind of leather is this?”

Dorian took the pants and pulled them on. They clung to him in a second skin, outlining all of his muscles even in the stark noon sun. “Believe it or not…nug.”

“ _Nug?_ ” Bull reached over and touched Dorian’s thigh, stroking the material. “Didn’t think it was that thick…or soft.” Dorian nodded in agreement.

“I thought it strange as well, but the tailor convinced me otherwise.” He slipped the belt through the notches of the pants and buckled it in front. It made the various buckles on his chest stand out less and pulled the outfit together in a way that the vest alone wasn’t capable of accomplishing.

Dorian looked… _good._

Bull ran his hands down to cup at the mage’s hip bones. “You look ready to go to war, Kadan.” He leaned in and nuzzled the strip of soft dark hair that ran between Dorian’s curled horns, “Sit on the bed and let me get those boots on.”

Shivering, Dorian nodded and stepped back. Once he was seated, the Bull knelt, careful of his knee as he took one of the boots. He lifted Dorian’s leg with a gentle hand, stroking his calf through the leather. Dorian smiled at him and the mercenary felt his heart flutter in his chest as he slipped the thick leather on over the pants.

Squeezing over the heel and toe of the shoe to make sure it fit right, he worked on pulling the hem up the length of Dorian’s leg to his knee. The shoes also had buckles which made fitting them to Dorian’s size easy enough. “Not too tight?” he asked when he reached the top belt.

Dorian shook his head and Bull kissed his knee just above the hemline of the leather. “Good.” He repeated the process and stepped back, letting Dorian stand. When he stood, towering over the warrior, Bull found himself whistling with admiration. “Damn, Kadan,” he said, watching the mage gracefully saunter over to the mirror.

“I could get used to this.” Dorian admired his reflection, twirling his mustache and giving himself a dashing smile. “Although this still feels undeniably weird.” He tugged at the ropes on his arms. “Definitely a two-man job.” Dorian turned, smirking at the way the pants clung to his legs and the inlay on the back of the vest. “Adaar will be glad that I no longer have to steal her hideous clothes.”

The Bull chuckled as Dorian walked back to the bed where a newly carved stave leaned against the headboard. He twirled it above his head, careful of both their horns and slammed the bottom of the staff against the rug.

Lightning ran over Dorian’s arms, tracing the knotwork and into his fingers in a flashy display. Bull felt his groin ache and he stood, sidling up to Dorian to pull him into a kiss. The mage melted into it, letting the stave drop to the floor as his hands came up to grip the base of Bull’s horns.

When they pulled away, Bull rubbed over Dorian’s rack, smoothing the freshly balmed surface. Dorian tended to his new horns as religiously as he had his hair. Though he was probably going to need some new caps.

The ones he had didn’t _quite_  match the new ensemble.


	4. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> how about meeting other Qunari, Tal Vashoth or under the Qun or Vashoth. Would be interesting to see how they'd react.
> 
> Author Comment:  
> Issqun and Beres are mothers to all the kids. Poly relationship, yo.

Adaar’s family was large. 

 _Very_  large.

“What beautiful children you have…Mrs…?” Dorian trailed off, waiting for her to take the line. She sighed, resting her hands on large leather-clad hips.

“We’re actually missing two. Both are off with their own companies in Antiva.” As she spoke, she jerked her head back toward the brood that was currently chasing each other with wooden practice swords around the Skyhold courtyard. 

She snorted at the display, “I’m Beres-taar. Most of the Bas call me Beres.” 

For being such a portly woman, Beres-taar Adaar had horns that could almost rival Bull’s in size. However, they didn’t seem to do much good as her forehead barely brushed Dorian’s shoulder. 

The kids…if they could be called that, lifted their swords and grinned mischievously at Dorian, their horns still mostly stubs save for the oldest two who were starting to sprout curled racks. The Iron Bull chuckled and lifted the youngest onto his shoulders, swinging back and forth with the young girl who giggled and smacked his scarred skin like he was a pony out for a trot. 

At that moment, the wooden doors to the castle slammed open and Adaar practically ran down to greet them, tripping over the stairs in her haste. She caught herself at the last second, her grey cheeks flushing high as her mother tutted. 

“Clumsy _,_ imekari. Let me look at you.” She smiled sweetly and pulled at the fabric of her daughter’s cream-colored tunic, straightening and folding the lines in the cloth. Adaar seemed used to the treatment even as her mother patted worryingly over the flat of her stomach. “You look so  _skinny_ …”

Adaar rolled her eyes, but the fond look remained, “I’m  _fine_  mom.” She paused. “Where’s dad?” she looked around the courtyard which was now filled with ten Vashoth, seven of which were under the age of 20. 

Beres swept her long white braids back behind her neck, the beads at the ends clacking against one another. “He and Issqun will be delayed a few days. Last minute harvesting.” She waved it off and gestured to Dorian and Bull. “You didn’t tell me you weren’t the only Kossith…” She paused and hummed under her breath. “Seems this young man  _actually_ balms his horns, unlike a certain  _someone_  I know.” She gave her daughter’s horns a pointed snap of her fingers and Adaar blushed, covering them briefly. 

“Ah  _well_ …Dorian’s only been like this a few months. He’s human actually.” Adaar lowered her hands to touch his shoulder, careful of the knotwork which had taken him almost an hour this morning. Bull watched the entire spectacle with an amused look on his face. 

Beres eyed him critically and nodded in understanding. “I pegged you for Vashoth. Hard to find a saarebas with no scars.” She mimed over the lips like she was sewing them shut and it made Dorian wince. This woman had been of the Qun. She had probably seen mages trussed up on a daily basis. “Dorian’s a  _Tevinter_ name isn’t it?”

He nodded, knowing that such an eagle-eyed parent would see through any of his lies like it was made from spider-web. “Yes, it is.” Indeed, she didn’t seem surprised or even remotely upset which he hoped was a good thing. “Adaar told me that you were a priestess under the Qun?” he asked, feeling a slight change in subject was needed. After all, Tal-Vashoth or no, few people harbored love for those from the Imperium.

Beres gave him a knowing smile and Dorian knew he had been caught, but before she could answer, Bull marched over with the youngest two hanging onto his horns. They appeared to be the same age. Twins perhaps? 

“Doing ok, Kadan?” he asked, sidling up to Dorian and placing one big hand over the small of the mage’s spine, cupping the exposed grey skin. Beres raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react.  _Fasta vas_ , this woman had a good poker face. Dorian momentarily glanced back at Adaar who seemed almost too expressive by comparison. Yeah…she had definitely not inherited her mother’s abilities.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He looked to the Bull, lifting his chin a bit. “You did interrupt us however.  _Terribly_  rude of you.” 

Grinning sheepishly, Bull shrugged and pointed to his left horn where a young boy hung. Dorian hadn’t seen him before among all the children, but he seemed somewhat shy so perhaps he had hidden behind the others. “Apologies, ma’am. I just wanted to introduce you to Kost, Kadan. He’s like you.”

The boy frowned a bit, his lips pursed as he turned his head away. The girl hanging from the other horn nodded her head violently, almost making herself dizzy with the motion. “Kosi got magic!” she let go of Bull’s horn to splay her fingers out like she was shooting fire from the tips, but Beres seemed to have anticipated this and caught her, placing her back on the ground. 

“Meraad…” Adaar groaned. “Please pay attention,” she scolded the girl. Meraad turned and blew a raspberry at her older sister to which Adaar gave a mocking gasp. The toddler grinned, a few of her teeth missing as she ran back to her siblings. Apparently they had crowned one of the middle children ‘king’ and were now conducting a knighting ceremony, Cullen’s cloak draped over her shoulders with some woven leaves serving as a crown. 

Adaar shook her head and eventually turned back to her mother. “Kost has magic? When did he show?”

“Only a month ago. There wasn’t time to write a letter with the harvest coming.” Beres rubbed her chin, a slightly worried look in her eyes. “Issqun said to send him to one of the human Circles, but I’ve always seen them as a glorified Arvaarad. And there’s not too many mages that haven’t either turned rogue or joined the Inquisition these days.”

The Bull gave Dorian a purposeful glance, “First with magic?” 

Beres heaved a sigh and reached up, stroking over the boy’s small barely there nubs. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s dangerous to let him learn on his own, but dangerous to send him away. He’s too young at any rate.” As she spoke, the boy, Kost slowly glanced back around to Dorian, his brown eyes soft, curious but nervous. 

Dorian offered him a kind smile and the boy seemed to relax a bit, although his fingers remained tight around the base of Bull’s horn. “You’re a mage? How wonderful.” He flexed his fingers and conjured a bright ball of veilfire into the center of his palm.

The boy leaned in, staring at the flickering flames as Dorian stroked his hands over them. “Magic is the Maker’s most precious of gifts.” He extinguished the fire and Kost looked just a bit put out. 

Beres watched him with an expression of mild fascination and Adaar beamed, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Dorian…would you  _possibly-?_ ”

The Vint sighed and shook his horned head. “Madame de Fer is  _much_ more patient and a great deal more experienced in the area of tutelage than I, my dearest Inquisitor.” 

He glanced over to Kost who was openly frowning now.  _Kaffas_ , he and Adaar shared a singular puppy face that he found was almost impossible to say no to.

Clearing his throat, he quickly added, “But I’m sure I can assist.”

Beres chuckled. “Good, now how do we get him to stop accidentally freezing his smalls?”

“I beg your  _pardon?_ ”


	5. First Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Adoribull - Prompt - Q!Dorian first dragon hunt

His blood was on fire. 

Every inhale felt sharp and laced with copper, similar to the time he had broken his nose as a child. Thankfully his mother had been able to reset the bone in a way where it looked flawless, but there was no erasing the pain or the taste in his mouth.

The smell that lingered for _days_ afterward.

Bull was watching him with an almost feral grin. “You _feel_ that, Kadan?” he reached out, stroking the nape of Dorian’s neck. They both had goosebumps that trailed over their thick grey skin, each muscle taunt and bulging in anticipation.

Swallowing, the mage nodded, watching as the Vinsomer landed in the valley of the island. “Is this what it’s like for you and Adaar…whenever we go after one?” he breathed slowly, the air in his chest compressed and making words come with far too much difficulty. 

Adaar let out a shuddering exhale. Her eyes were dilated and she seemed to have a bit of trouble walking. “It’s different for everyone…but yes.” She licked her lips, staring at the dragon as it unfurled its bright massive wings. 

The beast gave a low rumble deep in its chest and all three of them openly shuddered. 

“Ugh, you guys look like you’re about to shite your smalls.” Sera made a face of disgust. “You especially, Vinty.” 

Dorian blushed and said, “It’s my first time feeling this…” his eyes flickered back to the dragon and he drew his stave. His magic burned against his fingers and he felt…powerful. He hadn't felt so strong since he faced down his first Demon.

Suddenly a hand was turning him to the side and he met Bull’s lips instinctively. Maker he could devour the man right now. Bull was already hard, he could feel it poking his thigh. “Kadan, when we bring this beast down-” he breathed against Dorian’s fever hot lips. They both shuddered and Dorian nodded eagerly. 

“Yes…” he murmured, his free hand coming up to grip Bull’s horns. Bull reached for his, the stubbed fingers curling around Dorian’s rack, foreheads resting against one another. 

Adaar cleared her throat and said, “ _After_. After we kill the dragon.” 

Dorian smiled and gave Iron Bull one last kiss, the vitaar on their faces scraping together. “Then let’s do this. I don’t think I can wait much longer for the after-party.”

The Bull laughed, his belly rumbling with the motion. It made Dorian’s chest feel light hearing the sound. If this was how Bull felt  _every_  time they faced a dragon, he could understand why Bull chased them. He felt higher than he’d ever been in his life and he didn’t want to come down from it.

As they marched up the mountain overlooking the valley, his gaze drifted to Bull’s arse. Without hesitating, he leaned forward and gave it a hard smack that echoed even over the crashing waves of the sea. Bull glanced over his shoulder and gave him a heated look. “You heard the Boss, Dorian.  _After_.” He winked with his only eye and Dorian smirked.

“Just getting in a taste of dessert before dinner,” he teased Bull with a sultry look. 

The older man just grinned. 

“I dunno, Kadan…dinner is gonna be plenty good on its own,” he said as they reached the summit. The dragon finally took notice of them, roaring its threat loudly into the sky. The sound etched itself into his skull and Dorian let a small current of electricity spark over the ropes binding his arms. 

“Just save room for dessert, Amatus. I have  _quite_  the appetite tonight.”


	6. Strange Friends are We

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> something with qunari!dorian and krem maybe?

Krem didn’t sit with the Chargers that night. Instead, he took to the training ground, slamming his maul into a training dummy until it was practically in splinters. The other mercenaries didn’t seem bothered by this arrangement and carried on as usual in the tavern. 

Dorian didn’t like it. 

“Shouldn’t we go ask him what’s wrong?” he whispered to Bull as their drinks were passed around. Outside, Krem was setting up a new dummy in place of the old which was littered over the grass. 

At this rate, he and Cassandra were going to bankrupt the Inquisition with their requisitions.

The Bull exhaled and swirled his ale, leaning back in his chair. “Krem will come around and talk. I’ve tried pushing with him in the past and it hasn’t always been what he needed.” He touched the nape of Dorian’s neck, stroking over the knots that formed whenever the mage worried. “In this case, I think he needs to be alone.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “So you know what he’s upset about?” He stared expectantly at Bull, his own wine forgotten on the table. 

Shifting, Bull nodded. “A letter came for him. It was from Tevinter.” He noddeda second time for confirmation as Dorian’s eyes widened. “Yeah.” 

The Bull lifted his drink and took a long draught. “My guess is: private stuff. Family and shit.” He leaned over and pressed a sloppy, but tender kiss to Dorian’s cheek, their horns rubbing with the contact. “He’ll come around and talk eventually, Kadan…and then you can tell him how much you worried about him.” 

The mage frowned and watched as Krem lifted his maul and began to go at it for round two. 

“If you say so, Amatus…” 

* * *

Later that night, Dorian found himself leaving Bull’s chambers as the moon rose high over the mountains and into the pitch-black sky. The tavern had long gone dark and most of the courtyard had been cleared out save for the night shift guards-

-and Krem. 

The Soporati was kneeling in the grass, his maul held limp in his hand as he panted. He must have been going for hours if the mess of wood up to his thighs was any indication. 

Dorian tightened the tassles of his evening robe against the chill and shuffled down the stairs.  _“What are you still doing out here?”_  he whispered in Tevene. 

He offered to help the man up, but Krem shrugged it off, using the pommel of his weapon to push himself to standing. His legs were shaking from exhaustion and Dorian barely managed to catch him as he fell forward.  _“None of your…business, **Altus**. Put me down,”_  Krem spat back even as Dorian scowled and carried him bridal style back to the mercenary’s room.  _“Just cause you’re a big oxman now doesn’t give you the right to sling me like-”_

“Shut up, you idiot.” Dorian said in common as he kicked open the door and settled Krem onto the bed. The human glared, but Dorian ignored him. He managed to find a bowl of water that was clearly meant for washing, but it looked clean enough. “Drink.” He thrust it into Krem’s face and glared at him expectantly until the warrior downed the entire thing.

When he finished, Krem dropped the bowl to the floor with a clatter. “Andraste’s milky tits, you’re as bad as the Chief.” He shook his head and wiped the sweat from his brow. Dorian just rolled his eyes and dragged a chair from the rather dusty desk, setting it down across from Krem. “Oh no…”

“Oh  _yes_ ,” Dorian said, “We are  _not_  repeating this so we are going to have a talk.”

“Stuff it, Altus.”

Dorian dodged a gauntlet that had been aimed for his head, but it clipped his horns, causing him to wince as the weight snagged against his scalp. “ _Kaffas!_  Stop being a child.” He rubbed the base of his horn and to his chagrin, saw that Krem looked a little abashed at having actually hit him. 

Heaving a sigh, Krem removed his armor, chucking it to the floor in pieces. Krem’s gear was some of the best cared for so Dorian could only watch as each section hit the floor, a worried look in his eyes. “Cremisius…what happened today?” he asked in a significantly softer voice. 

Krem pursed his lips. “Bad news. Everyone gets it. Nothing special.” He shrugged.

Dorian shook his head, not letting him have an inch. 

“Going to have to be more specific. I’m a Qunari now. We’re known to be somewhat stubborn.” He gave the other man a pointed stare and crossed one leg over the other.

“As if you care,” Krem muttered, refusing to meet Dorian’s gaze. “Just cause you and the Chief are fucking doesn’t mean you give a bronto’s arse about-”

“I blew the horn for you,” Dorian reminded firmly. “When Bull hesitated, I took it and made sure you and the others lived to fight another day.” He watched as Krem winced, the memory of that almost betrayal still stung a bit. “I’m not a Charger, but don’t you dare accuse me of not caring.” 

He sighed heavily and licked his lips. “Cremisius…please. I’m worried, _Bull’s_  worried.” 

“Of course the big idiot’s worried. He  _always_ worries.” Krem crossed his arms over his chest and for a moment, Dorian saw his age. 

Krem wasn’t a great deal younger than himself, but five years made a difference. He could almost see himself in him, that same stubborn boy who thought he could just do as he wanted without consequences….

Until there suddenly were consequences. Dire ones.

“My father died.”

Dorian was so lost in his own head that he almost didn’t hear. He blinked and looked at Krem, seeing the other man’s lip wobble slightly. “Oh…” he managed to say softly. “I’m…I’m terribly sorry, Cremisius.”

Krem shook his head, hair falling down a bit in front of his eyes which had turned somewhat glassy and red. “Like I said: nothing special. Happens every day. People dying.”

He swallowed hard and Dorian dug into his pocket, pulling out a lace handkerchief. He offered it and Krem took it, but he didn’t wipe his face. Instead he gently pushed and pulled at the fabric, testing the strength of it. Dorian remembered watching the warrior sew the orphans in Sahrnia a batch of little plush nugs. Dorian had been surprised that the man knew how and he was even more shocked at how small and neat the harsh warrior’s work was. 

 _“He’s from a tailor family. Least that’s what he told me. Pops sold himself as a slave when Krem refused to marry into money,”_ Bull said when he had asked about it the night after they left the Emprise. Not long after that, Dorian had snatched the horn at the Storm Coast. Men who did things like that for children who had nothing left did not deserve to be left to slaughter.

Dorian watched Krem play with the fabric as tears rolled down the man’s face. Krem was not a pretty crier. Then again, few were. 

The mage exhaled and stood, moving to sit next to Krem. Without speaking, he pulled the other man to his chest like Bull had done for him after Felix had passed. Qunari were hot-blooded and the warmth was generally a comfort to him, so he hoped it would be to Krem as well. 

The warrior didn’t fight it, but didn’t lean into the touch. He simply sobbed with as much dignity as he could. 

But eventually, the tears slowed. Krem finally used the hanky, cleaning his face which had turned completely ruddy and blotched. “You ever wish that you could…go back and make amends?” he asked quietly. 

“I want to, but I’d have to sacrifice who I am to do it,” Dorian said, absently tucking a loose strand of hair out of the warrior’s eyes. Krem nodded in understanding.

“My old man wasn’t very understanding, but he was better than mom.” He sighed. “She still calls me by a girl’s name and blames me for everything. Dad left me some things in his will, but she said that unless I come back in a skirt, I won’t ever touch it.” Krem shook his head and leaned against Dorian. “I just feel so  _empty_.”

Dorian nodded. He had felt the same when he heard of Felix’s death. He had felt like his entire world had turned on its head. 

How could everything still turn, still go on without Felix? And yet, it had. 

He had woken up and had breakfast as always, did his research as always, and went to the tavern as always. 

Except it was  _changed_. Or he had changed. The world was normal. The world went on. 

He had been forced how to figure out a way to keep going too. 

“Would you like to have a drink? I have some wine stashed away. Sun-Blonde,” he offered, knowing any and all condolences would most likely be rejected. 

Krem shook his head. 

“No…I think I just want to sleep for a while.” He rubbed his eyes which probably itched from all the crying. “I want to be alone.”

“Ok. I hope you sleep well.” Dorian stood slowly, moving the chair back to the desk. On the surface, he could see the letter in question. He placed it back into its envelope without reading it and watched as Krem pulled the covers over himself, forgoing undressing. 

Dorian waited for a few moments before putting out the torch with magic and returning to Bull’s chambers. The other Qunari was awake and waiting, a slightly worried look in his single eye. 

“I saw you take off with Krem. Everything ok?” he asked as Dorian laid down. The mage shrugged, letting the pillow take the weight of his horns. 

Bull frowned and laid down as well, kissing the man goodnight a second time as they both drifted to sleep.

* * *

The next morning when Dorian entered the library, he found his handkerchief cleaned and folded on top of his chair along with the tiniest hand-sewn nug he had ever seen. 


	7. Groomed to Perfection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Dorian suddenly having an almighty need to rub his horns together with bulls to show affection

Bull had always told him that the horns themselves had no feeling. Horns weren’t like antlers with blood and fur and nerves after all. In fact, Qunari broke theirs all the time, whether on accident or, in the case of most Vashoth, on purpose.

The base of the horns was another matter entirely. The skin there was _very_  sensitive. It itched on the days he didn’t balm them and it tugged harshly if something ever clipped the massive rack.

Vibrations were also pretty bad. He could feel them throughout his skull as he worked to sand down the rougher edges. The scraping sound echoed and he groaned, flicking the chips and flakes off his shoulders. His tunic was discarded on the bed to at least keep the mess from getting into the fabric.

“You look like you could use a hand.”

Dorian dropped the pumice stone and whipped his head around, seeing the Bull himself throw up his hands in placation. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you, Kadan.” He knelt and picked up the stone, his brace creaking a bit with the motion. They’d have to oil it soon. “You know, Beres-taar has given the Boss so much shit since she saw your horns.” 

“Oh? Still nagging her about her poor horn care?” Dorian asked with a cheeky smile. The Bull chuckled and settled behind him, gently stroking over Dorian’s bare shoulders with the tips of his fingers.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. It’s all:  _Do you want them to fall off, imekari?_ ” he said in Beres-taar’s voice. “Any kid with half a brain knows that that’s just an old tama’s tale to keep you cleaning them.”

The warrior put the pumice to his horn and Dorian winced, feeling the scraping sound in his skull return. “Yes well, I  _believe_  in the virtue of good grooming. I don’t need an excuse to tend to…whatever grows out of my head.” He waved his fingers dismissively and heard the Bull chuckle. His gaze was drawn to the mirror where his reflection stared right back at him. It was still very clearly his face, but the horns were truly something he had been forced to get used to.

And yet now…it was just another part of him.

The mage pursed his lips. “You know…until the accident, I had no sense for this. How much the horns are a part of your body. How you have you take care of them.” He exhaled. His ignorance in this and all things regarding his lover made him feel terribly inadequate. Bull was so patient with him even when he was being stupid and stubborn about that stupidity.

“Dorian, you’ve been human all your life. No one expects you to understand what our horns mean or do to effect our lives,” Bull said softly, blowing the flakes off the back of his neck. He placed a gently kiss behind Dorian’s pointed ear. “Besides, it’s different for everyone, much like humans with their hair.”

Dorian’s gaze flickered back tothe vanity mirror. They certainly weren’t hair, but in their own way, the horns were an adornment. A crown that he could tend to each morning.

And each set was so  _different._

Back in the Imperium, he had assumed that all Qunari had the same horns. And then suddenly Adaar walked through the Chantry with her ram rack and Bull with his…well  _Bull_  horns. 

Then there was Adaar’s family. Ram was the dominant trait amongst the children, but like hair and eye color, lesser traits would show through occasionally. One of the older children had a set like a Halla, long and twisting high above his head. There was another with little goat horns, something the girl was clearly not happy about given the way she constantly stared with envy at Adaar’s horns whenever she was walking through the courtyard. 

Adaar herself wore very large horn caps that covered most of her rack and gave the ends some devilishly pointed tips. She had told him one drunken evening in the library that she chose those to make her look more intimidating.  _“It’s like you with your mustache,”_ she had slurred as they both leaned against the bookshelves, several Tranquil stepping over their outstretched legs. _“I bet you’d have such a **baby** face without it.” _

The Bull went without any caps. His were large and thick enough that there was little danger to them chipping or breaking off. Bull’s rack was that of a warrior’s: efficient and threatening. He let the bases become gnarled to make it seem like he didn’t care, like he was too busy knocking off Vint heads to tend to them. 

Although ever since Dorian had taken to sharing his room, his horns had received a  _great_  deal more care. 

“That’s enough for now. Don’t want to make it too thin.” Bull pulled away and Dorian stood, inspecting his work in the mirror. The mage’s horns were smooth and curled, balmed consistently to make them shine. He’d need to add another layer of it afterward. They felt so  _dry_ from all the sanding.

He turned back around and smiled gratefully. Bull placed the pumice stone back onto the vanity and said, “Need anything else, Kadan?” 

“Yes.” Dorian wrapped his arms around the Bull’s neck and tugged him in for a kiss. The taller man chuckled and kissed him back. Dorian felt the vibrations as their horns knocked together, scraping. The feeling didn’t make him pull away. Instead he gave a low purr and pressed all the closer.


	8. A Mage's Strength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> How about someone being surprised how strong he is? Like people just assumed because he was a Mage that he wasn't physically strong? Basically I need bamf qunari!dorian.

Bull was  _always_  picking him up. Even after he’d been turned into a Qunari, the mercenary would lift him, absolutely delighting in slinging the mage over one shoulder like a pillaging pirate’s catch of the day. He’d then march them up to their shared room amidst the drunkenly cheering Chargers.

Bull was strong, a warrior. Of course he could lift a mage, even if he was now a rather sizable Qunari. His strength was part of who he was. No one ever questioned that.

As a human, Dorian knew he would never be able to lift his lover. 

As a Qunari, he had never tried.

Dorian was keeping the flanking Templars from surrounding Adaar. Barrier after barrier was cast until he found the spells breaking faster than the previous one. Low mana and he didn’t have Solas to rely on to pick up the slack. He quickly dug into his satchel for some lyrium, fingers frantically pushing aside notes and plant samples. 

“ _Kaffas!_ ” he muttered, pulling out the last glowing vial.

“For the Elder One!” 

Dorian barely had time to dodge before a Templar maul nearly took his hand off. The potion dropped to the ground and shattered, lyrium dripping over the rocks and diluting into the muddy puddles below. 

He twirled his stave, switching to the bladed end just as Bull came and barreled into the man, forcing him over the cliffside. They could hear the smashing and crunching of his armor all the way down the mountain until the man lay in a limp heap on the rocky shore. 

“Alright, Kadan?” Bull asked, panting. Dorian nodded and turned back, hearing Adaar call for help. He swung around and stabbed one of the scouts just as he raised his blade to her spine. He crumpled and Adaar managed to slice off the head of one of the troops just as his shield dropped. 

“Gotta big one, Boss!” Bull called out. Dorian grunted, turning to see a Behemoth stumble its way up the hill followed by Templar reinforcements. Bull grinned and lifted his axe, ready to meet the mindless beast head on. 

Suddenly, Dorian caught a small puff of smoke behind Bull. 

“Bull!” he shouted, just as the assassin appeared, slicing into the back of the Qunari’s bad leg. Blood poured out from the wound as the man wrenched his blade away. Bull whirled on the man and with a single swing, smashed his head in with the flat of his axe blade. The body twitched a few times before falling limp against the wet grass.

Dorian ran forward, keeping Bull standing. “Inquisitor! We need to retreat!” he called, ripping his bag open for bandages. He tied one around the wound as tightly as he could, feeling his heart stutter in his chest as Bull winced. 

Maker there was so much blood. 

The Behemoth was still coming, growling loud enough to overshadow the crashing of the waves below. The Templars followed behind it, slamming their swords against their heavy shields in tandem. Adaar panted and stabbed the last warrior on the hillside, twisting her blade cruelly. 

“Can he walk?”

Bull groaned and tried to put his weight on his leg. It held, but Dorian knew that any stability would be short-lived. On the top of a rocky mountainside, any stumble could be a deadly one. 

Dorian shook his head and looked at Bull. His breathing was shallow and he knew that he had to be in a lot of pain. His bad leg… _why_  did they have to hit him there?

“I’ll take him,” he told her, adjusting Bull’s weight into the soldier’s carry. Adaar frowned.

“Can you-?”

“We don’t have time!” Dorian growled. “Grab his axe and my staff. We need to go, now!” He lifted with his legs, letting the Bull fall against his back, his arms hooked under both of Bull’s legs, using the pressure of the weight to keep the wound from bleeding out. 

Once he was standing, he started down the opposite side of the mountain. The nearest camp was through the forest. If they could lose the Templars in there and get back, Bull could have a real healer. 

_“Kadan…”_

Dorian felt his chest clench and his grip on Bull tightened. “It’s ok, Amatus. We’re taking you back.”

_“What about-?”_

Dorian shushed him. “You can crack heads with the Behemoth another time. Right now, let’s try and save your damn leg, you great horned idiot.” As he spoke, he felt Bull’s blood dribble down his side. It made him feel queasy, but he keep moving. Adaar jogged in front, leading the way with all of their weapons in hand. 

The sun beat down on them even through the filter of the trees. Sweat dripped down his face and Dorian was panting with each step. Bull’s breathing was shallow and pained. “It’s ok, Amatus. It’s ok…” he told him, shifting the weight. “We’ll be back at camp soon. I promise.” He turned his head to kiss the other man’s shoulder and readjusted him.

He just had to keep going. Bull was going to be fine if he just kept going.

He wasn’t a warrior, but he could be strong. Just strong enough.

* * *

They reached the campsite near sundown, everyone staring with wide eyes as Dorian carried Bull and settled him on a medical cot. The healers rushed forward and Dorian stepped back before falling on his ass from complete exhaustion. He had never felt more bone tired in his life.

Dorian felt a water skin his his leg and he looked up, seeing Adaar smiling at him. He gave a weak smile back and accepted the water, nearly pouring it down his front as he fumbled with shaky hands. 

“You did good,” she told him, touching his back. He nodded in agreement. 

“We made it…at least.”

* * *

The healers finished with Bull in the early morning. By then, Dorian had fallen asleep next to his cot. Bull groaned and rolled over, staring at Dorian before reaching over and touching his cheek. Dorian roused and he stared up at the other man with tired grey eyes. “Bull?”

“Hey Kadan…” he said with a smile, wincing as he tried to move his leg. Dorian gave him a cross look that looked downright adorable with how he squinted his eyes in the dark.

“Don’t move. It’ll be a while before you can use that leg. You’re lucky you didn’t lose it.” He sat up and yawned, stretching out his arms. No doubt they were sore.

“More like, I’m lucky that I had you there to carry me back to camp.” He smiled softly. Dorian raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “That’s an accomplishment, Kadan. There aren’t many who could carry me on their own, let alone for miles.”  He reached forward and cupped Dorian’s cheek, feeling how clammy the skin was beneath his fingers. “Thank you.”

The mage just sighed and leaned into the touch. “You can thank me by  _not_ putting me through that again.” 

“Aw, so you’re saying you don’t want to carry me over the threshold when we get back to the castle?” the Bull asked with a wink. Dorian rolled his eyes and Bull chuckled. “Not gonna lie, Dorian. You carrying me? It’s kinda hot.” 

He winked and the mage just groaned, shoving his hand away. 

“You are bloody impossible, you know that?”


	9. Love Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Visiting Vashoth pay some very interested attention to the changed Dorian, Bull might be a bit jealous.

Adaar’s younger siblings only stayed a month in Skyhold before Beres-taar herded them back to their commune in the North. However, the Inquisitor’s father and second mother Issqun arrived not too long after with a horde of Adaar’s cousins who tagged along, eager to see the castle and meet Adaar’s paramour.

As the family rolled through, Josephine was fiddling with the hem of her dress, looking terribly nervous next to Adaar. “What if they don’t like me?” she asked in a hushed whisper. 

“My mom liked you,” Adaar reminded her girlfriend, taking Josie’s hand and squeezing. Josephine blushed but smiled softly, the color high on her cheeks. 

Dorian chuckled next to the Bull. “I can only imagine what will happen if the Montilyets decide to visit,” he whispered. Oh yeah, that would definitely be a party. Antivans were more open minded than Orlesians and Fereldens, but Qunari were still pretty exotic even for them.

Suddenly the caravan stopped and two of the party stepped forward through the gates. If Adaar’s descriptions were anything to go by, these were her other two parents.

Issqun was a tall slender woman with tall straight horns and equally long white hair. Kas, Adaar’s father was a rather average looking guy. Taller than Beres-taar, but shorter than Issqun with a set of ram horns.

So  _that’s_ where all the kids got it from. 

Adaar smiled and took Josephine, running down the steps and forgoing all formality. No one was really surprised as Adaar flung her arms around her father and her second mother. 

Josephine chuckled fondly behind her hand and then gave a proper curtsy that had Kas smiling and Issqun looking confused. 

* * *

It wasn’t until they settled for dinner that Adaar introduced all of her cousins. Most of these Vashoth were in their early twenties. Younger than Adaar, but adults nevertheless. 

Bull exhaled as he watched the table grow more and more crowded. If there was one thing sexually mature Kossith lacked, it was  _subtlety._

Many of the girls were instantly drawn to Cullen, trying to bat their eyes at him even though they were at least a head taller and a decade his junior. There were a few who hung around Blackwall too, one even who had the gall to stroke his beard.  

The boys were fairly content to hang around the various barmaids. They learned quickly that Sera wasn’t interested in their manly-parts and neither was Solas. They liked Cole well enough, but they seemed to take a more brotherly role with the Spirit than anything else. 

But then there was  _Dorian_. Dorian who loved to flirt with anyone who would play along, man or woman. 

Normally it wasn’t something that upset Bull. He was also a shameless flirt and there was nothing wrong with some teasing fun. 

Oh but these Vashoth boys were  _touchy._  

“You’re from Tevinter? But you’re Qunari!?” one of them, Meraad said, leaning into Dorian’s side. Dorian didn’t seem to notice…or he didn’t care. 

“I’m  _not_ Qunari! I just…I’ve been like this for a few months now. I’m actually human,” he explained with a chuckle, swirling the thick red wine in his hand. The alcohol had stained his grey lips an enticing red and he watched as Meraad’s gaze dropped to them occasionally.

“I’ll bet you are just as handsome as a human,” Meraad practically purred. 

“Oh I assure you that I’m even  _more_ handsome with all my hair,” Dorian pulled at the small shock of hair between his horns and said, “Alas, I make due with what is left.” 

Meraad just touched the mage’s shoulder. It had Bull twitching. “You certainly do, Dorian.”

The Bull exhaled slowly and closed his eye. He wasn’t surprised. Dorian was a smart, friendly, incredibly handsome man. Most of the nobles who came through Skyhold were instantly twitter-patted at the sight of him, only to back off once they learned he’s a Vint. 

He’d never felt his blood boil like this before. 

Loosening his death grip on his tankard, Bull evened out his breathing. 

No matter…he’d just excuse himself from the situation. No one would get hurt and he’d be able to get his emotions under control without upsetting Dorian. 

Slowly, the Bull scooted his chair out and finished his drink. He touched Dorian’s shoulder to let the mage know he was leaving before heading out of the crowded hall. 

The night was cool, but with summer approaching, the chill was milder than it had been in weeks. Most of the grounds were deserted, people sequestered in the grand hall of Skyhold or down in the Tavern with the regulars. However there was one tall silhouette enjoying the low moonlight when he closed the doors behind him. 

Issqun was leaning against the ledge of the staircase, staring out over the graceful dips and peaks of the mountains surrounding the fortress. She turned at the sound of his boots against the stone and gave a respectful nod. Definitely a woman of the Qun…at one point at least. “Ma’am,” he said in greeting.

“The Iron Bull, was it?” she asked, her tone even and purposeful. He wondered if she had been a Tamassran. Not that he really had any right to ask. “Leaving the party early?” 

“You already left it,” he pointed out. She smiled. 

Tamassran then. 

“I don’t mind the noise in open spaces, but in places where all the sound bounces off the walls.” She touched the sides of her brow to illustrate. “I’m prone to head-pains.” 

She looked him over and added, “But I doubt that is why you left. You seem a man who likes to be around a crowd.”

“Yeah, normally. Just not used to Vashoth.” He settled against the banister as well, keeping a few feet between them.

She nodded. “They are young and this is all new and exciting for them. Humans and elves especially. There are plenty of dwarves around our home, but they don’t tend to take partners more than twice their size.” 

The Bull grinned and shrugged, “I dunno, there are other ways than just shoving it in.” As a Tamassran, she would definitely know.

Issqun chuckled. “You know, for someone who is Tal-Vashoth, you act like you were born into this life.”

“How so, ma’am?”

She tilted her head, staring at him closely, “You are more confident. You don’t struggle with your words.” When he was silent, she sighed and continued, crossing her arms over the banister. “I have been outside of the Qun for over twenty years and I still struggle to align myself.”

To be fair, he was struggling right now. Dorian and him were a thing, but not. He didn’t own Dorian and yet he felt angry that someone else felt they could just move in on him. 

So unreasonably angry and possessive. He might be willing to label it a type of madness. In Qunlat, jealous was translated to madness of the heart. How accurate.

Clearing his throat, he said, “You seem like you have everything together. Got a damn big family and a husband and wife.” He paused. “Everyone  _seems_  happy.” It was more of a prod than anything and Issqun took the bait.

“Not always. Beres-taar and I struggle often. I’m more.. _.possessive_  of her than I should be and I don’t always love Kas as much as she does.” Issqun closed her eyes. “It is the nature of a relationship. To push and pull in constant motion, trying to find a balance but never remaining level for long.” 

“Was she the priestess in your district?” he asked. She nodded. 

“I struggled with the Qun and she did her best to help me. Then…I made her leave with me. Kas we found when pathing through the Free Marches.” She rubbed her chin. “Valorn was born not long after that…”

Bull nodded. He and Dorian had been exclusive for some time now, but at the same time, he knew the mage was going to return to Tevinter. He had his revolution planned. If Dorian asked, he would follow, but Dorian…Dorian would never do that. 

“You know, you remind me of Beres-taar.”

Bull was broken from his reverie by Issqun’s words. “What?”

The older woman nodded. “She sacrificed a lot to leave with me. She put everything aside for my selfish love.” She gestured to the Bull, “In Valorn’s letters, she told me that you had left the Qun to save six.”

“It’s not the same thing,” he tried to argue. “I wasn’t a priest, just a spy….a spy who was already outside of the Qun without even realizing it.”

Smiling, Issqun stepped forward, “Definitely like Beres-taar. Concerned for others to the detriment of yourself.” She leaned forward and pressed a small motherly kiss between his horns. “Do not split yourself. Seek your own happiness too, the Iron Bull.”

With that, she headed down the stairs to the Tavern where most of the rooms had been booked up with Adaar’s visiting relatives. Bull watched her go for a time before he head back in. 

Dorian was waiting away from the tables, arms crossed, and tapping his foot, “I was wondering where you had run off to! Where were you, Bull?”

The Bull shrugged and took Dorian by the shoulder. “Just outside chatting. Where’s Meraad?”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “He was getting a bit too clingy for my tastes. I sent him to Cabot’s boy…the one with the ponytail…What on the Maker’s green Earth was his name?”

“Adrian.” 

Snorting, Dorian poked Bull’s chest, “Of course you remember all the names of the tavern floozies.” He shook his head, “Anyway, you missed some good fun. Cullen rebuked those poor girls and they all went with Blackwall back to the stables!”

“Good for him. Poor guy could use some fun. How many?”

“Oh at least  _three_. Maker be with him.”


	10. Prejudice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> The first time Qunari!Dorian experiences anti-qunari racism.

Orlais was not a country that Dorian had ever been particularly fond of. His overall impression outside of a few exceptions were that the people were snooty, the wine too sweet, and the clothes over-embroidered. 

But he had always been willing to tolerate all of that for the sake of civility.

“He’s handsome for an  _oxman_ ,”

Dorian nearly stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned, only for Bull to take him by the shoulder and force him to keep walking. “Pick your fights, Kadan,” the larger Qunari murmured. “You’re going to hear a  _lot_  of that shit out here.” 

“Have you been dealing with this every time we go to Val Royeaux?” Dorian asked, pursing his lips. “How do you  _deal_ with it?” 

Bull shrugged, glancing at the groups of gossiping humans passing them. They weren’t being particularly subtle, “I’ve been hearing it ever since I left Par Vollen. It’s not new. It’s just words.”

Dorian shook his head, almost clacking their horns together. “That’s not right, Bull. You shouldn’t tolerate that!”

Raising an eyebrow, Bull turned to look at the mage, “You do realize  _you_  used to say shit like that all the time, right?”

“Vishante kaffas! That’s _different._ ”

Sighing, Bull smiled fondly. “Not really, but I still love you, Kadan.” Bull clapped his shoulder and moved past Dorian, heading to the inn that they were camping at for the night. 

The mage clenched his fists and swore to himself in Tevene. Bull wasn’t exactly wrong. He had never been…well Dorian had  _never_  cared about Qunari beyond a physical fascination with their size.

And then…Bull and Adaar turned out to be real people. Nothing like the stereotypes he had-

_Oh…_


End file.
